“A man like you will always fit in just fine.”
“A man like me?” He lifted one brow.
“You are a man, for one thing; that will open nearly every door in the world. You do have the wrong accent and clothes, you need a shave, and your hair is too long, but that is all fixable with training and a good valet. You are also not completely unfortunate in your appearance and manners. I daresay you’ll get along well enough.”
That drew a wry smile from him.
“And what about you?”
“I have my place in the world. As long as I stay there, I’ll be fine.”
“Where is your place in the world?”
“I’m not telling a man I hardly know.”
“I’m not a stranger. You know my story.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I do. In fact, why do I feel that I don’t know the half of it?”
“May I order you another cup of tea? We can continue not being forthcoming with each other.”
He stood there—leaned there—with those blue eyes sparkling at her, waiting for her answer. Meredith’s heart started to pound at the realization that this was one of those moments where the direction of her life hinged on the next word she uttered—the before to an after.
That is, if she said yes.
Oh, she knew the correct answer. Any girl with an ounce of sense knew to say, “You are too kind, sir. Thank you, but I must decline.” Another drink meant more conversation which meant more of a chance for that strangely sizzling something between them to strengthen and draw them closer, sparks flying, until the smolder turned into a flame turned into a fire.
Well, tonight she wanted to burn.
And if she was going to go up in flames, it might as well be with this handsome stranger, who she was unlikely to ever see again. Meredith was innocent in experience but not ignorant in the ways of the world. She knew that this stranger on this night was her one chance to experience passion.
This would be her one night of indiscretion, and it would be a secret she took to her grave. But until that day, she had this one night to feel fully alive. After the events of the past few months of a deathbed vigil, she needed to feel that. With the prospect of lonely nights ahead of her in London, she craved the intimacy this man promised.
And so, listening to her heart instead of her head, she said, “Yes.”
Yes to another drink.
Yes to more conversation.
Yes to everything else that would follow.
Just as she had predicted, that one yes led to another and another and another and to this . . .
Later that night . . .
A kiss. There were sparks when his lips touched hers later, much later, that night, in the privacy of the darkened corridor upstairs.
Meredith felt like she was finally being sparked to life with this kiss, as in the fairy tales she always hated. Life wasn’t like that for most girls who lived and breathed in the real world, she knew that well.
But this kiss on this night with this man had her reconsidering heroes and fairy tales and kisses that woke a girl up. There was a spark between them, and she chased it like it was the only light in a world of darkness.
“I don’t even know your name,” he murmured, hours after they had met. They had chatted for hours and names hadn’t seemed necessary.
“Just a girl.”
He didn’t need to know her name because names were for knowing each other, and this would only be tonight.
Lips parted.
A gasp.
A reach for more of him, of her, of this ember smoldering between them and slowly but surely bursting into flame.
Those flames were like hope, like life, like the warmth that had always eluded her.
“I’m James. Just James.”
Meredith wrapped her arms around him and murmured, “Just kiss me, Just James.”
One kiss led to another, which led to the soft click of a door closing behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. What was before and what would come after ceased to matter. There was only this man, this girl, this moment.
She heard the rustle in the dark as he lit a candle, and then saw the soft glow of a single flame.
“I want to see you,” he explained.
It made her eyes feel hot. No one ever wanted to see her, really see her. She was inconvenient, she didn’t fit in, she was too much of this or too little of that. But this man wanted to see her; his hunger for her was plain in his eyes. God, it felt good to be seen and hungered for.
It made her feel strong. Bold.
Like the night was just beginning.
There was the soft sound of fabric rustling as she undid the lacings on her dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing herself to him.
There was the sound of his sharp intake of breath when he saw her in next to nothing, opening herself up to him, laying herself bare.